Sam I am and swordfishes
by Emmylou
Summary: Nigel has a small scar on his shoulder. Challenge response to explain this scar.


Sam I am and Swordfishes  
  
PG  
  
Archive; the Trinity gazette, anyone else, just mention where it's going.  
  
Disclaimer- Relic Hunter and all associated trademarks do not belong to me. The scar belongs solely to Mr. Anholt. The book 'Green Eggs and Ham' was written by Dr. Seuss.  
  
Summary- Nigel has a small scar on his shoulder. Your mission: Explain the scar. Where did he get it? Childhood? On a hunt? Challenge response.  
  
Must have- a Dr. Seuss book, a woman named Camille, and pop up computer adverts.  
  
A/N-Just a challenge I couldn't stop myself doing. (Yes I know, I haven't forgotten the four boxes or barren land.)  
  
*************  
  
It was cold again and Nigel's shoulder was throbbing because of it. He had spent a terrible ten minutes this morning moving through his flat and closing windows and blocking up gaps. Still a cold breeze assaulted him while he sat at his computer.  
  
Every time his arm moved to close the ridiculous pop-up ads on the screen, it twinged a bit more.  
  
November was the worst time; it would throb distractedly all through the wintry month, making him grumpy and tired. Sometimes it would get so bad he would go to the doctors, they all said the same thing- just an old scar Mr. Bailey, they do twinge a bit now and then, but nothing worth worrying about. He had never had the cheek to actually say that he wasn't worried; he just wanted it to stop.  
  
Unfortunately whenever the scar got like this he couldn't help but be transported back to his youth and the day he had received the wound. The twinges now had been nothing to the pain then- that he remembered, but the emotional pain that still followed him around stung just a little bit more. At the time he had been so angry he had wanted to cut his arm off, just to get rid of the feeling of anger and resentment, the total embarrassment that had kept him hidden away for months until all that was left was the raised line on his right shoulder.  
  
The one time Preston had dared call him 'scarry' he had received a punch that would have made even Sydney proud.  
  
Ever since he was six years old, Nigel had wanted to learn how to fence. His mother would sit at the bottom of his bed and read to him- always 'green eggs and ham', she would always read it twice.  
  
The first time he would lie and enjoy the words, then she would stop and tell him one of her very own stories, then once he had begun to get sleepy she would re-read the Dr. Seuss book letting the rhythm of the poetry lull him to sleep.  
  
So many, many nights, the conversation went as so,  
  
"...And I will eat them here and there,  
  
I will eat them ANYWHERE!  
  
I do so like green eggs and ham!  
  
Thank you!  
  
Thank you,  
  
Sam-I-am."  
  
Nigel lay in his bed, looking at the patterns on his blue bedclothes and wriggling every now and then to get comfortable. His mother smiled down upon him.  
  
"Okay, so what story do you want to hear?"  
  
"The one about Lord Nigel, Lord Preston and the swordfish!" Nigel replied eagerly, wondering why she even needed to ask.  
  
"Oh, again? You've heard that one so many times."  
  
"Pleease?" Nigel remembered her smile, how she had loved to tease him and pretend that she didn't want to tell that story when she did, he had known that she loved the tale almost as much as he.  
  
"Oh okay." She paused, as if searching for the right words. "Once upon a time there was a man called Lord Nigel, and he was the best fencer in the whole wide world...but his friend, Lord Preston was jealous of this amazing talent. And so Lord Preston searched for a way to beat Lord Nigel at fencing. He demanded a duel...and still Lord Nigel won, he made Lord Nigel tie one arm behind his back...and still lord Nigel won. As you can imagine, by then Lord Preston was pretty mad."  
  
"He vowed he would not sleep, nor eat, not drink, until he beat Lord Nigel. One night- it came to him! He called for his servant to go and find him the largest swordfish in the land and to place it in his pond."  
  
"The next week he called Lord Nigel to him and said 'This is a swordfish that I have trained. To prove for the final time you are the greatest fighter, you must go into the pond and duel with the fighting fish. If you fail, it shall eat you.' "  
  
"Now, Nigel was scared..."  
  
"Lord Nigel mum." he interrupted.  
  
"Sorry, Lord Nigel, was scared, but he was proud, and so waded into the pond to face the jaws of this fish. Nose against epee they clashed but the fish was much more practiced than Lord Nigel, and so the fish gulped him down in one go."  
  
"Lord Preston was pleased with himself- his plan had worked, no-one doubted that he was smarter or a better fighter than Lord Nigel. As a reward, he allowed the swordfish to remain in his garden."  
  
"Now you can imagine Lord Preston's surprise when one day, while sitting by his lake, the fish spoke to him. You see, Lord Nigel had befriended the fish from the inside."  
  
"'I Challenge Thee to a Duel' the fish called to the smug Lord Preston. 'If you win People will know you are a better fighter. If you loose, you will let your brother leave my insides and will never challenge him again, only try to befriend him.'"  
  
"Well, Lord Preston was frightened, but like his brother, dutifully went into the water. And like his brother the fish soon beat him; his best epee was forever lost in the murky water."  
  
"'I have won!' The fish called. "And here is your brother.' With one hacking cough the fish spat out Lord Nigel." His mother sighed and kissed him on the forehead. "And so there the story ends. Lord Nigel and Lord Preston forgave each other and lived happily together forever."  
  
The fact that he was the hero and Preston the villain had never bothered Nigel, he had always assumed that his mother told the exact same story to Preston, only with the names reversed, making him into the baddie.  
  
He wasn't to know that at eight years old Preston had thought himself above listening to his mother's stories. He wasn't to *know* that Preston had lurked outside his room every now and then to listen to his mother without appearing babyish. How could he possibly have realised that to Preston the words had seemed like their mother taking Nigel's side?  
  
It had been just a fun story for Nigel, and so at the age of thirteen when he had been deemed old enough to join a fencing club, he had put his all into it. He had practised every minute of the day, wanting to be as good as he had been in his personalised story.  
  
He hadn't been at all surprised when Preston had wanted to join his club, in fact for once he didn't make a fuss, just practiced as hard as he could. Sometimes they practiced together, more often apart.  
  
Then came the words that had changed everything.  
  
Junior Fencing tournament.  
  
Preston had signed up immediately. Nigel hadn't.  
  
Nigel had had better things on his mind. Camille. The first girl he had ever been in love with.  
  
Delicate and pretty, with a sweet smile and a tight fitting top, she had been every boy in school's dream. Including Nigel and Preston's. But, as Nigel had been proud to boast, she was *his* friend. And to him, being a friend was the first step towards love. She was Preston's age, but it was Nigel she spent time with, Nigel she worked with at school, and Nigel she persuaded to sign up to the tournament.  
  
'...and he was the best fencer in the whole wide world'  
  
Nigel realised pretty early on that being the best fencer in the whole wide world was nothing to having Camille merely think he was good.  
  
How was he to know that Camille had fancied Preston? How was he to know that Preston had asked her to get Nigel to sign up for the tournament?  
  
The weeks had been a blur of practising, he barely stopped for food or rest, and he noticed that Preston was practicing nearly as hard too but he hadn't cared. Even the tutor said that Nigel was better at it than Preston.  
  
And so the day had come. Both Bailey boys had looked sick with nerves on their way there, but had seemed to brighten up as they entered the gymnasium where it was to be held and donned their masks and protective gear.  
  
The tournament was set up simply, the group was spilt into pairs and each would fight. The winners would then go on to fight each other until it came down to the last two. Though both boys won each of the battles, neither managed to face the other, until at last, they were the final two.  
  
'Lord Nigel, was scared.'  
  
And he had been. The look Preston had sent him as he pulled the mask over his face had terrified Nigel. He had never known anyone hate someone that much, much less their own brother.  
  
But as he looked into the crowd, watching in horror as Camille jumped up and down and cheered; for Preston, he had set a look of equal resolve on his face and the pair had launched into battle.  
  
'Lord Preston was frightened.'  
  
And he had been, Nigel was sure- he had put every inch of effort into practice and Preston had probably underestimated him.  
  
But despite Nigel's moves, which were clearly superior to Preston's, Preston was older, and physically bigger. He could repel moves with more strength and tire less easily than the younger brother.  
  
And just for a moment, Nigel was sure he was going to loose. As he'd lost everything else to Preston, recognition at school, Camille, and now the tournament. It wasn't fair.  
  
And what made it worse was that people would pity him. They'd say, 'well, he *is* younger than Preston' and he would have to sit and drink in Preston's self pride. The thought angered him so much he would have killed Preston if he could- he didn't care if the blades were protected or not. He just wanted to tear his smug, uncaring brother limb form limb.  
  
He didn't even notice that Preston was having more and more difficulty blocking his anger fuelled moves, didn't notice how close the second to last move went to striking Preston in the head, didn't notice Preston moving in total self defence, protecting his body automatically.  
  
He didn't notice how Preston flayed his arm out to dodge Nigel's blow. And he didn't notice the epee, protection and all; pierce the skin of his shoulder.  
  
And as he passed out in pain, having lost the fight. All Nigel saw was everyone standing behind Preston, everyone on his brother's side.  
  
The embarrassment of loosing had nearly killed Nigel, even now the guilt, pain, and shame made him feel sick.  
  
How did it end again?  
  
'Lord Nigel and Lord Preston forgave each other and lived happily together forever.'  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
Still, there was one story his brother couldn't take away from him. A brief rooting through his books found it and as he read it aloud the pain in his shoulder seemed to dissipate.  
  
"I am Sam.  
  
Sam I am.  
  
That Sam I am,  
  
That Sam I am,  
  
I do not like,  
  
That Sam I am..."  
  
*************  
  
Thank you for reading, please review 


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